


Red for Republican

by SinningOnSunday



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: 2016 US Presidential Election, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Cruzio, D/s, Dildos, Dominatrix, Double Penetration, Four-Some, Kink, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Politics, Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Strap-Ons, We hate Trump, a whole lot of sin, butt plug, floggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7836052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinningOnSunday/pseuds/SinningOnSunday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Campaigning is hard, but there are two (former) 2016 US Presidential candidates that are harder, and for each other no less. What happens when The Rubio's invite over the Cruz's for a friendly "dinner party"? Bondage, blindfolds, pop and political culture jokes abound, get ready for the biggest clusterfuck since the Obama Administration!</p><p>Though the "story" is centered around the Republican candidates, each side of the political spectrum is ridiculed, so no matter where you lie, you can find something to laugh at. Not for the light of heart!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red for Republican

**Author's Note:**

> This was written last spring when these candidates were still running for president. Even though they are no longer in the running, no one can deny the OBVIOUS chemistry they had during the debates. If you didn't think they were fucking on the side, then you're lying to yourself. This fic is how I image things would go down between them.

It was a very ordinary Tuesday night in a very ordinary yellow house in West Miami, where the very ordinary Republican Presidential Candidate Marco Rubio was preparing his house for a dinner party. But this was rather odd because it was nearly midnight.

The kitchen was dimly lit – mood lighting. Marco leaned over the long dining room table to pick up some stray expired coupons, crumpling them as he stood up again. He may have raised millions of dollars on the campaign trail, but at home he was still balling on a budget, just like every other normal American. His wife, Jeanette was right behind him with a thick burgundy tablecloth, the one they only brought out on special occasions like this. She flicked it like a whip, the silver chain around her wrist jingling as the soft fabric covered the polished wood. Marco watched as she bent at the waist to smooth the wrinkles, her blonde hair gracefully curling over her shoulder like ribbon. He loved her when she looked like this, so graceful and innocent. He loved her even more bound in a leather cat suit, straddling him as she dangled the keys to his handcuffs just over his nose.

“I hope Heidi brings quinoa,” Jeanette said cheerily, pulling the edges so they were even, no wrinkles. Marco blinked twice, bringing him back to reality.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, stuttering a bit, “I bet they get the good stuff from across the border. You know, that raw, unprocessed organic shit the liberals are always raving about. W-when were they coming again?”

He watched as Jeanette unlocked the bottom drawer of their antique china cabinet, taking out a thick, black strap-on dildo and placing it upright on the table, it’s silicon head flopping lazily like a jack-in-the-box.

“Oh, any minute now,” she said nonchalant, and she began stroking the menacing looking toy with a baby wipe, sanitizing it. She found a particularly tenacious spot near the tip and rubbed extra hard, her eyebrows furrowing in her fervor. Marco felt himself begin to sweat as he watched her work like a Hispanic Aladdin on a silicon dick-shaped lamp. 

Marco turned away, clearing his throat and straightening his standard red tie—red for Republican. He stepped into the parlor, making his way to the large vintage chest serving as a coffee table. He moved a stack of artfully arranged issues of The American Conservative and an unread copy of Reagan’s autobiography before opening the chest. The inside was rather plain, holding extra remotes, a few inkless pens, and a leftover string of Mardi Gras beads, but rather obviously had a false bottom. Marco lifted this bottom to reveal a treasure trove of sexual pleasure objects.

From the adult toy chest, Marco pulled a string of anal beads. A thick string. There were no beginners in this house. Next, he took out a fluorescent pink double-ended dildo, as thick as the five-pound gummy worm and just as flexible. He pulled out a set of leather teal and orange floggers, reminiscent of Jeanette’s Miami Dolphin’s Cheerleader days. He dug around near the bottom and found his favorite pair of handcuffs, real police-grade ones but with a leather lining so not to damage soft lady wrists. Jeb Bush surely appreciated them when he came over for their last dinner party. Marco did love being a Dom, and Jeb was the perfect Sub. 

He heard the oven ding and realized how much time had passed. He quickly began pulling out his other favorite toys from the chest; a metal-studded paddle, the handle worn from frequent use; a handful of shiny bullet vibrators; a set of nipple clamps with extra-long wires, like jumper cables (but sexy); a silk blindfold he’d used as a pocket scarf on more than one occasion; a length of rock climbing rope in black and red—red for republican, though he’d never rock climbed in Miami. Lastly, he gleefully dove in the chest like a child to find his Little Mermaid-esq collection of cock rings, looping them around his fingers, layering them like a king’s jewels. 

After he had proudly laid out his collection like dentist’s tools, the doorbell rang. Jeanette screamed like a tween at a Jonas Brothers concert and rushed to pull off her apron. Marco met her at the top of the stairs and gave her his signature smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Wrapping an arm around her waist, they walked down the stairs together in a picture of middle-class suburban perfection. 

The Rubio’s opened the door to greet whom else but the other Latino Presidential candidate, Ted Cruz and his wife, Heidi. Marco ushered them in cordially, peering out the door into the midnight darkness to spot the shine of camera lenses or the whiff of lies emitting from the ever-present political paparazzi. The last thing he needed was for their weekend activities to come to light, and with everyone thinking that Ted Cruz was the Zodiac Killer he knew the Paps would be following his contender even more closely than usual. To his delight, the night remained silent, with nothing but the buzzing of Floridian insects and the distant crashing of waves. Sometimes he had to thank Baby Jesus for that fucktard Donald Trump. He was such a big, stinking pile of racist diarrhea the media could not help but flock to him like the shitflies they are. 

Back inside, Jeanette had already invited the Cruz’s to the kitchen, graciously taking Heidi’s ceramic dish from her. She lifted the lid, releasing a visible curl of steam from the contents. 

“Oh Heidi, your special quinoa? You shouldn’t have, thank you!” Ted Cruz smiled and placed a proud hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“Well should we eat first or come up with a strategy to beat Trump?” Ted said with a laugh.

“Ha! Classic Ted!” Laughed Heidi, giving her hubby a playful slap on his soft, dad-bod. “Always talking politics!”

Rubio leaned across the counter, locking eyes with Cruz, sending a shudder down his back. Heidi noticed too and her smiled faded. Marco let an impish smile curl across his lips. 

“No please, continue. But,” he broke eye contact, gazing at the marbled granite countertop, thinking about how he’d like to bend Cruz over its cold surface and fuck him until he begged for mercy. Twice. 

“I can think of someone else who I need to beat tonight,”

Cruz gulped, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Heidi felt his hand clench ever so slightly on her shoulder. She cleared her throat. Jeanette looked up.

“Heidi, why don’t you accompany me to the ladies room to freshen up,” Jeanette said, catching the cue. “Feel free to get started without us boys.”

The two men stared at each other from across the room. Marco leaned over the countertop like a cat as he gazed deeply at his prey. Ted smiled nervously back, looking very much like a constipated Kevin from The Office while beads of sweat formed on his brow. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t detract his eyes from Marco’s magnetic gaze. He knew that look. That was the look of a man about to do terrible, terrible things to another man’s asshole. His asshole. 

Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, Marco slunk from his perch, snaking his way towards Ted, who stood frozen on the white tile floor like the few remaining North American glaciers. With unexpected gentleness, Marco ran his calloused hand up Ted’s sleeve, feeling the soft, tailored fabric, a prelude to the soft skin underneath. Marco’s hand continued its sojourn up Ted’s shoulder, eventually skimming the sensitive skin of his neck. 

“I’m about to make a mess your innocence, Harvard boy,” whispered Marco. Ted shuddered, nervous. He’d never done anything like this before; his sex life was a long, regretful, true American tragedy, just like the Trail of Tears, littered with death and the mistreatment of minorities. But before he could dwell on this, Marco pressed Ted’s open mouth against his own, silencing his efforts to break down and cry like the little bitch he was.

Ted shivered at the younger candidate’s aggression. He tentatively reached a hand up to hold Marco in an embrace, but Marco was having none of his pansy shit today. He’d had enough of playing nice in front of the cameras. He shoved the other man against the counter, pressing their bodies together so tightly he could feel Cruz’s muscles locking and pulling in shock and pleasure. Marco splayed his fingers and ran them between Cruz’s carefully combed locks, clenching his fingers into a fist when he found enough thin black hair to grasp. It was becoming harder these days to find enough to tug the way he knew Ted liked it; the stress of the election was aggravating his bald spot the way those dickheads who still drive hummers are aggravating the hole in the Ozone layer. But everyone knew global warming was a liberal fairytale designed to turn good republican children soft. It just wasn’t scientifically proven!

The hard granite was beginning to dig into Cruz’s sensitive lower back, sensitive from the hundreds of times he bent over backwards to please Big Business. But even the stony surface was nothing compared to the solid erection he felt rising like the price of gas against his leg. And it wasn’t just an I-like-this boner, it was a ready-to-go boner. Goddamn that was fast. Faster than anything he’d ever experienced working for the U.S. Government. A deep moan escaped from Cruz’s throat. Marco took Ted’s bottom lip between his teeth, not biting, but just reminding Ted who was in charge and that he had not allowed him to speak yet.

“I’m sorry for how Donald treated you in the last debate Ted,” said Marco, resting his forehead on Ted’s in an isolated show of affection. “He’s the most sexist, narcissistic, lying pre-cum baby on this side of the planet; he’s the type of person that you can summon by saying his name in the mirror three times.”

He opened his eyes, looking down at Ted’s crumpled body, knees locked and shaking like it was his first kiss behind the cabins at Church Camp; he had to use both his hands in a white-knuckled grip on the granite just to keep himself upright. 

“Seeing you now, like this,” he said softly, a deep chuckle in his voice, “It is only too obvious that you are not the Zodiac Killer.” 

“Thank you,” Ted replied sincerely, “But I mean, it could be so much worse. I could be Jeb Bush. I’ve seen cotton balls scarier than him.”

Marco leaned down, ready to resume their passionate kiss when he heard the familiar click of stilettos making their way down the hallway.

Jeanette strode in, her curvy former-cheerleader’s body laced into a tight red and black corset. Her legs were spread in a power stance, thigh-high black stockings stretched over the curves of her strong calves and thighs. A pair of lacy red underwear – red for republican – was just visible underneath a black garter belt, holding her stockings taunt. In her hands she held a thin dog leash, bedazzled with the American flag in tiny rhinestones, and between her thighs hung the massive black dildo she’d been cleaning earlier, and it pointed menacingly at Ted Cruz.

The Texas senator gulped as the dildo swung in the wake of her entrance. It was staring at him, he just knew it. His eyes flickered to Heidi, his beautiful wife, naked as a peeled apple, crawling in on her hands and knees, the other end of the dog leash finishing around her neck. They had only been gone five minutes, but Heidi’s hooded eyelids and whimpering mouth told Ted everything he needed to know; the little blonde politician’s wife was three sheets to the wind dick drunk and needed another hit of Jeanette’s juicy black strap-on.

She crawled closer, curling herself around Jeanette’s leg, flicking her tongue out at the shining silicon like a lizard tasting the air. Jeanette reached down, her long red fingernails tangling themselves with Heidi’s buttery blonde locks. She jerked the kneeling woman’s head up to meet her eye, causing her to gasp in pain as Jeanette delivered a sly smile that Judas in Hell would be proud of. 

“Oh no not yet. I think we need to play a little more first” she whispered before turning to her husband, still straddling the other candidate in the nastiest of ways, like the first party scene from Dirty Dancing, but starring sweaty middle aged men with comb-overs instead of late 80’s Patrick Swazye with a perm. “What do you think Marco?” 

Marco collected his drool over his banging-hot wife and turned to Ted, his eyes black with desire. It was like looking at an older version of himself, one that had aged poorly and eaten out too much. It made him even harder. Who wouldn’t want to have sex with themself?

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Jeanette stepped into the white kitchen tiles, her heels slapping the ground with more force and conviction than the inbred rednecks at a Trump rally. Each step made her full thighs jiggle seductively, just begging to be slapped and squeezed. Heidi watched forlorn as the length between her mistress’ legs walked away, only to be jerked by her leash.

Jeanette strode behind Marco, who still loomed over Ted like a Sally Mae student loan. She placed a hand on either of his hips and dragged them upwards, ruffling his shirt, so neatly tucked in as she did so. Her hands ended up resting on his thin biceps, squeezing them as she leaned into his exposed neck. He felt her soft breath prickle his freshly shaved skin, stinging slightly. Starting at the base, she dragged her tongue all the way up Marco’s neck, ending at his ear where she took the lobe in-between her teeth. 

“Let me handle him,” she whispered, still holding her husband’s least used orifice between her pearly incisors. Marco shuddered at her touch; he loved it when she licked things to claim them as her own, especially when it was him. 

Marco broke from his iron grip over Ted, allowing the Texan to view his wife in all her dominatrix glory. Ted felt slightly betrayed by Marco’s departure. Did he not see what happened to his wife, Heidi?! Jeanette scared and excited him all at the same time, like fucking a blender, but far less dangerous. Maybe?

As Marco stood to the side and began taking his shirt off, Jeanette placed a hand on the counter on either side of Ted Cruz. She leaned over and came mere inches from his face.

“Take off all of your clothes and get on the dining room table. Now.” She commanded, staring into his eyes to make sure he knew she wasn’t fucking around. She pushed away from the counter, waiting for him to move, but he just continued staring at her like a cliff-hanger on the season finale of Game of Thrones. She narrowed her eyes.

“Did I fucking stutter?” He jumped and ran into to the next room, fumbling to unbutton his oxford. 

Jeanette brought Heidi over to the table too, pulling her along on her patriotic leash. She looked so perfect with her marshmallow skin and hazel eyes. She was so adorably white; she probably seasoned her food with hotdog water and plain mayonnaise.

A shirtless Marco appeared beside her, carrying two identical sets of handcuffs. Ted Cruz shuddered. It’s ok, he thought to himself, we’ve prayed about this and Jesus says he cool with it.

Marco roughly locked one of Ted’s hands into the cuff then brought the chain through a loop on the chandelier before locking Ted’s other hand in the other side of the cuff, effectively hanging him from the ceiling by his wrists. To Cruz’s right, Heidi was receiving the same treatment from Mrs. Rubio. 

Marco stepped back from the pair and watched as his wife removed a hidden silk scarf from within her corset. It tumbled like water from her navel, black as sin and glimmering like the BP oil spill. She pinched the corners between her red nails – red for Republican – and made her way towards her prey, fifty shades of malice glittering in her deep brown eyes.

Jeanette circled Heidi, ghosting the scarf over her shoulders, along the curve of her ass, and swam it between her breasts, tickling her with its cool, gossamer touch. Jeanette loved the contrast of the inky scarf with Heidi’s ivory skin, feeling like Salome as she danced with the fabric in the most sensual of ways. Heidi whimpered, her skin crawling at the sensation. She bit her lip, her body ready for something harder. Now standing behind the little blonde housewife, Jeanette dropped into a deep crouch, opening her mouth to spill her hot breath over the small of Heidi’s back. Jeanette slowly rose, her breath tracing Heidi’s spine all the way up to the baby hairs on her neck. 

Suddenly, she snapped the scarf past Heidi’s ear, catching the opposite end with her other hand and quickly pulling it taught against Heidi’s neck. The woman gasped. Alarmed, Ted snapped his neck to check on his wife. Just as quickly, Marco’s hand slapped him back into place, returning his gaze to directly in front of him.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to watch,” murmured Marco with a hint of menace. 

“I’m s-sorry, I-I didn’t mean to—” Stuttered Ted, only for Marco to catch his mouth, squeezing his cheeks so his lips puckered like a fish. 

“This is the second time I’ve caught you misbehaving Ted,” Marco chided. “Do you think this is the Republican Debate? Do you think you can disobey the rules and do whatever the fuck you want? Do you think this is a game?”

“No!” shouted Ted, the devilish look in Marco’s eyes scaring him more than the thought of Hilary winning the election. As much as he loved the idea of that sleaze Bill Clinton and his ornery cock being reduced to First ‘Lady’, his red-blooded American heart would not let that ocean of lies and deceit vilify the Oval Office. He would sooner rip his own dick off and use it to commit seppuku than allow her to become president.

Marco reached behind Ted and presented a second black scarf. Jeanette looked at her husband, her fingers still tightly gripping the scarf that wrapped around Heidi’s creamy white neck. She smiled and moved the scarf over Heidi’s eyes, knotting it tightly. Marco did the same to Ted. The world went black for the Cruz’s.

Their senses became heightened. Ted could feel the vibrations in the floor as Marco walked out of the kitchen. He couldn’t tell where he was going, but he had a bad feeling about it. It reminded him of the feeling he had when Obama first mentioned universal healthcare. He shivered as he heard the soft clinking noise of plastic. 

He shouted when he felt a rough hand grab his Junior Senator. Marco’s hands deftly slid a silicon cock ring over Cruz’s dick, right near the base.

“Can’t have you finishing first now can we?” whispered Marco from below.

Awww, thought Ted, even in the bedroom, I can’t finish first!

Marco crept silently behind the Texas senator and picked up the bottle of lube, greasing up his fingers till they were more slippery than a Mexican trying to squeeze past border control. He grabbed both of Ted’s juicy ass cheeks and parted them like they were the Red Sea and he was Cuban Moses, revealing the entrance he desired. Without pause, he slid his slick finger inside, curling it into downwards hook, pressing until he could feel the hard lump of his prostate. Cruz felt it too, and leaned into his touch.

Marco slowly began pumping his finger into Ted’s asshole, moving it in much the same way one would pick at a spot on a shirt, a sort of upside-down “come hither” motion that got Ted moaning within seconds. After a minute or two, Marco removed his finger, eliciting a whine of displeasure from the elder senator. The noise made Marco smile; he loved being so in control. He hated the chaos of debates and interviews, journalists constantly twisting his words into half-truths and straight-up lies. Just the other day Politico claimed that he hated disco music. He didn’t hate disco music; he just hated the Bee Gees. And didn’t everyone on the low-key hate the Bee Gees and that goddamn earworm “Staying Alive”? 

Marco quickly poured more lube on a second finger and reentered Ted Cruz’s sweet anus, pink, puckered and ready. Ted moaned again, feeling himself grow harder and harder with each thrust of Marco’s magic fingers. 

Meanwhile, to Ted’s right, Jeanette was playing with Heidi in her own way. She had taken a medium sized bullet vibrator to Heidi’s clit, moving in more circles than a NASCAR race over her swollen sex. Heidi shivered at the touch, her voice emitting more sighs and squeaks than Chris Christie’s Laz-E-Boy. After a minute or two, when Jeanette decided Heidi was ready, she grabbed a medium sized dildo from her collection and slowly inserted it into Heidi’s wet entrance. Heidi clenched around the ridged plastic, her body trembling as it finally found something to hold onto. 

All too soon, Marco removed his fingers from Ted’s ass and replaced them with a red, white, and blue butt plug, a plastic model of a bald eagle on the base. Still blindfolded, Ted could sense Marco as he stood up behind him and placed his face next to his.

“My my,” started Marco, bringing a hand around Ted’s waist, reaching for his cock, “even the fight for the Republican nomination isn’t as hard as you.” Marco grabbed his manhood, eliciting a hip-thrust from the unassuming Senator. 

The Rubio’s simultaneously stopped their teasing, causing their contender’s bodies to visibly relax at the absence of stimulation. Jeanette strode over to the sex chest in the other room, snatching a long piece of cable from the mess of other naughty playthings. She pinched two clamps over Heidi’s pert nipples, and Marco attached the other end to Ted’s cock ring. Heidi accepted them, but not without a shout of surprise first. Jeanette snatched her mouth between her claw-like fingers.

“Vocal today, aren’t we?” she asked, “If only you could have used the same pretty voice to help your husbands campaign. Maybe then you could have won D.C. and Minnesota,” she said with a smirk.

“Nobody cares about D.C. and Minnesota—!” blurted out Ted, choking on the final syllables as Marco wailed on his wrinkly ass with a red leather paddle—Red for Republican.

“You already talk too much during the Presidential Debates Ted,” chided Marco. “From now on, if I hear another word come out of your mouth, it better be in fluent Spanish. If not, your hairy Latino ass will feel the repercussions.”

Cruz swallowed. “Good,” murmured Marco. 

Jeanette gave a test pull on the cables. They both sucked in a breath.

“Don’t move too much, or you’ll make it worse for the other.”

Meanwhile, Marco procured a flogger from the sex trunk and began running his fingers through the navy, red, and cream leather tendrils. He watched as the Cruzes waited in anticipation, their faces riddled with election-day anxiety. Ted’s brow wrinkled like two half-shaved caterpillars going after the same leaf. But somehow, Marco found it sexy. He took the flogger and cracked it in the air, evoking the soft wa-pap that only a bundle of patriotic baby whips could. 

The Cruzes stood straighter at the noise, a signal that things were about to get a whole lot worse. Or better?

Marco started off slow, running the cords over their bare skin with the precision of a painter. He dusted the tips of the flogger over Ted’s tense shoulders and across his back, before glancing down at the head of the majestic bird sticking out of Ted’s ass-crack, a smirk growing on his lips more quickly than his erection. He gave the bald eagle butt plug an experimental tug, just to see how good of a grip Ted had on it. His sphincter clenched the cool glass more tightly than the Cruz campaign clenched the evangelical vote. Like death and taxes, that cake-cork wasn’t going anywhere.

Marco repeated the gentle treatment with Heidi before turning it up to level 2. He flicked his wrist and the cords struck her back with a snap. She sucked in a breath and bit her lip. Moving in the opposite direction, Marco backhanded Ted with the flogger. The Texan’s lips tightened in pain and pleasure. Marco continued this technique, smacking the two progressively harder and harder, using all the muscle he’d obtained from the couples Tennis Lessons he and Jeanette attended. 

Marco was surprised at how well Ted was holding his tongue; he was usually such a mouthy sub. He had to admit, while he was proud of his self-control, it was a bit disappointing; punishments made the game so much more interesting.

Heidi was far less trained then Ted. Every smack of leather upon her ivory backside elicited a spasm that jerked the jumper cables. She tried to keep still, but each hit was harder than the last and she wasn’t prepared for it the same way the American people were not prepared for the economic crash of 2008. Ted wished she would just keep still, but she twitched worse than an epileptic at a rave, and every convolution of her body only tugged harder at the cable attached to the base of his cock. 

Of course, Heidi really could not control herself, not with Jeanette working a vibrator on her clit harder than the Obama administration working to fuck up America. She turned the silver bullet on and off at random intervals and set it at random powers, similar to the way wireless Internet works, just to keep Heidi guessing. 

Meanwhile, Marco worked himself into a rhythm, smacking Mr. and Mrs. Cruz to the beat of “The Star Spangled Banner”, the Whitney Houston version, which was his favorite. He smacked Heidi’s pert nipples, causing her, and consequentially, her husband, to jerk at their attachments. He swatted their legs, Ted’s pudgy gut, their backsides, and space between Heidi’s legs, her Constitution still gripping the dildo like it was the last IPhone 6 at the Apple store on Black Friday. He swatted the spaces just around their most sensitive areas, enjoying the tease. He loved watching red lines spread across their bodies, more tangled and confusing than the U.S. highway system. Government inadequacy gave him such a hard-on.

Jeanette eventually just left Heidi’s vibrator on, and on its highest power no less, bored of her intermittent squirms. She wanted to see her suffer in the most erotic way. Heidi bit her lips as she felt a sharp pressure build inside of her, like a Mento thrown in a coke bottle. Any minute now she would burst; she bit down harder as she realized she would need permission first, but she knew holding in her orgasm would be harder than getting her hands on Obama’s real birth certificate. 

Marco switched to the backsides of the Cruzes as Jeanette ran her soft hands up Heidi’s torso, her long red nails tickling her burning skin. She pulled on the two chains attached to her nipples, causing a jolt of pain that momentarily distracted the blonde from the heat burning at her core. She rose from her perch and took Heidi’s mouth completely by surprise. Jeanette could tell she stopped breathing. She released her from the kiss and moved on to suck her neck. Hard. Heidi gasped. She’d be wearing turtlenecks and scarves for weeks.

Jeanette could hear the soft whine coming from Heidi’s throat, though she tried to keep it quiet. Marco, who was still mercilessly raining his Cuban thunder on their pasty white backsides, would hear her and only increase his strength. Her breathing picked up in short breaths; she was on the edge, but her lady lips hadn’t even tasted Heidi’s favorite toy. 

Jeanette quickly pulled the vibrator and dildo, slick with Heidi’s juices, out of her trembling insides, to a whine of protest from the Senator’s wife. In a display of Latina strength no one expected of her, Jeanette lifted Heidi by her thighs and wrapped her legs around her waist. Instinctually, Heidi tried to secure herself by grabbing Jeanette’s shoulders, but couldn’t due to her being cuffed to the ceiling. Jeanette lifted her so her opening lined up with the massive black strap on. Heidi felt the tip waiting at her entrance and couldn’t help mumble a pitiful, “oh God, please.”

“I prefer Mistress,” corrected Jeanette with a smirk. “And because you asked so nicely…”

She slowly slid the length of the strap-on into Heidi, only able to fill her with half of its rubbery goodness. Her pussy just wasn’t big enough for the whole thing yet. It may never be. But if her vagina was anything like Jeb Bush’s, it could stretch. 

She started off slow, so as not to break her. Jeanette had seen one too many ass-gina’s ripped using this thing. They were still paying the medical bills for the Clintons. But, what could she say; Hilary was one crazy woman, especially in bed. And on the table. And against the wall. And upside-down. Jeanette was the reason people called Hilary an “old bird”; because Jeanette’s fat Cuban sausage had ripped Hilary a cloaca that even Ben Carson couldn’t fix. Maybe because he was a neurosurgeon and not gynecologist. Either way, it didn’t stop that dirty bastard from trying. 

Jeanette began moving faster and faster, eager to hear her squeal. Every thrust jostled the rope attaching her nipples to Ted’s cock ring, tugging mercilessly on his Junior Senator. Ted could barely register this, for ever since Jeanette lifted Heidi and began desperately pumping her like a clogged toilet, all of Marco’s sadism became centralized on Ted ass. 

“Yes, Yes!” panted Heidi, her voice pitching up like she was talking to her mother on the phone, more breathy than early Britney Spears. “Can I cum please Mistress? Please?!” She all but screamed.

Jeanette continued slamming Heidi’s cooch like it was ISIS and her strap-on was the Goddamn U.S. Air Force. Or at least, the Air Force the Republican’s would like to see. Personally, she would like to soak the sand niggers’ crops in strong American Whiskey and light them on fire, producing an explosion that would make Michael Bay cry. But no, those Libtards in congress wouldn’t allow anything to happen to their rainbow flower butt-buddies. The only thing they would throw at terrorist countries was aid money.

Below her, Heidi’s face had twisted in her efforts to keep her orgasm in. Her squeals and squeaks made her sound like a scared hamster, noises that made Jeanette crazy.

“Beg for it,” Jeanette said, and Heidi delivered.

“Please Mistress! Please let me cum! Please!”

“OK, you can—” No sooner had the words left her lips than Heidi let go with a scream of pure pleasure. Her thighs spasamed so hard against Jeanette that she had to sit her against the table to keep from dropping her. Still, Jeanette took a few more strokes into Heidi’s sweet pussy, pulling out the rest of her orgasm. 

“Do you like hearing your wife get off?” whispered Marco into Teds ear, stopping for a moment to survey his work, the flogger resting by his shoulder, holding it up like Lady Liberty, lighting the way toward sexual freedom. He had worked himself into a sweat beating the blue out of Ted’s ass. He felt a little guilty for going so far, but really he just had a lot of pent up aggression from the debates and his poor turnout in the general election. Too, he knew that Ted loved the pain. Hell, it only took one look at his throbbing dick to tell that. His juicy, throbbing dick.

Goddamn, he thought. Everything really is bigger in Texas. 

Ted nodded to Marco’s question, unaware of the man gaping at his twig and berries. It made him harder just hearing the echo of Heidi’s screams in his head. He could never make her scream like that. He just didn’t know how to please a woman. For example, he tried making abortions illegal and tried to keep insurance from covering birth control because he knew how much women love babies. But then they got all mad at him for “telling them what to do with their bodies” and “Taking away their human rights”. Another time, he tried to stop the legalization of gay marriage because he knew the only way women can be successful and happy is through marriage to a strong, dominant man. That was obviously why Heidi married him. And if men started marrying men, then there wouldn’t be enough for the women to marry! He couldn’t have that! Well, now that he thought about it, that was the second reason he opposed same-sex marriage. Reason numero uno was because Jesus said it was wrong. Couldn’t forget about the late, great JC!

Ted’s train of thought was broken like a politician’s promise when he felt a mouth clamp down on his hardness. Marco, mesmerized by Ted’s Texas Longhorn, had begun to notice it going flaccid as Ted’s thoughts strayed to his many failures. He couldn’t have that. 

Marco’s mouth worked on Ted’s dick like it was a Rocket Pop furiously melting in the mid-July heat. His tongue swirled around the sensitive tip as his head bobbed up and down the shaft. He lifted his thickness and licked the underside long and slow, impressed with a bulging blue vein that ran up his length. Reaching around, Marco grabbed the butt plug and pumped it in and out in time with the motions of his head. In no time at all, Ted was harder than a priest in the boy’s choir. 

Jeanette glanced over at the two boys playing lollipop and smiled warmly to herself. For two proud, anti-gay Church boys they were queer as a three-dollar bill in West Hollywood. But then again, most politians were, they just had practice in lying and hiding things from the public.

Ted couldn’t keep himself from moaning as Marco’s silver tongue displayed skills far beyond memorizing debate speeches. He enjoyed this almost as much as he enjoyed slamming Trump in the presidential debates with Marco at his side. Ted wished he could see Marco’s face; his slightly tanned, sunken cheeks as he took him in, sucked on him like a kid trying to get the last drop of his milkshake. The mental image had his head swimming and his dick growing harder and harder. Goddamn this blindfold! And Goddamn this cock ring! He moaned again as Marco moved the butt plug just shy of his most sensitive areas. 

Keep it together Ted; you’re no quitter, not like Jeb.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Both parties froze; Jeanette was holding up Heidi, still coming down from her atomic orgasm; Marco’s jaw dropped and his eyes travelled to the door, Ted’s thick cut of man-meat still plugging his mouth. 

“Oh! I completely forgot! That must be dinner!” cried Jeanette, removing the senator’s wife from her strap-on. Marco stood up from his perch, wiping his mouth. Not bothering to put on a robe or grab a blanket, Jeanette opened the front door, thick black strap-on swaying between her thighs, in her black and red—red for Republican—dominatrix glory. 

On the other side stood a very shocked, and unbelievably good-looking pizza man. He was hot; make you want to drop your panties at the mere sight of him kind of hot. He was built like a brick house lumberjack with a beard, dark hair and green eyes that glimmered like space. 

“Well hello there,” said Jeanette, an idea forming in her deviant mind.

“Um…” he looked her up and down, liking what he saw. “That will be $27.95?”

Jeanette patted her corset, the only “clothing” she was wearing.

“Oh no,” she said, her voice pitching up in false dismay. “I’m sorry, but it seems I don’t have the money for it. But maybe I can pay for it some other way?” she asked sweetly, reaching her hands out to touch his chest. Man, she couldn’t wait to lick nutella off his nipples. 

“Um, I don’t think…” he began, not knowing how to react to the half naked Florida Senator’s wife offering him sex for pizza. His dick knew though. She was so hot his pants were fucking saluting her. Any doubts in his head were erased like Hilary’s emails when Jeanette grabbed a fistful of his polyester shirt collar and yanked him over the threshold. 

Fuck it, he thought in true bro fashion. 

Entering the kitchen, he realized he was in way over his head. This one room alone made Fifty Shades of Gray look like a fucking book for kids. This looked like something he only found on the dark, weird corners of Kink.com. Well, it wasn’t as bad as that time he found a porno of some chick being water boarded with another chick’s squirt. He didn’t know what information they were trying to get out of her, but it got his dick talking. 

Jeanette took the pizzas out of his hands and set them on the counter as he stood in awe. He looked at her as she returned, confusion in his eyes. She leaned in and kissed him.

“Have you gone to South America recently?” she murmured in her most sultry phone-sex voice, gazing deeply into his eyes. “Because I want you to go south on me.”

“Um, no?” he answered.

“Good, I don’t need you spreading Zika to the future First lady.”

The Pizza Man stared at her, gobsmacked as she walked over to free Heidi, loopy and hung-over from her orgasm, from the chandelier. She led her by the chain of her hands cuffs to the pizza man, and then pushed her on her knees. 

“Give him the old razzle dazzle,” she whispered into her ear. Heidi peaked at the Pizza Man’s bulge, obviously well endowed behind his tight khakis. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, then back at his package, then back at him, asking a question with her eyes and slightly parted lips. The Pizza Man raised both of his eyebrows, consent enough for Heidi, who proceeded to unzip his pants.

Jeanette captured his mouth again, kissing him passionately as Heidi set to work on his length. Jeanette squeezed his muscular arms, thick as logs and just as hard. She tugged his shirt over his head and ran her hands along his bazillion ab muscles. He was hella built; like American Sniper, but instead of fighting Iraqi insurgents he fought hunger with greasy, cheesy deliciousness. 

“Thank you for your service to this country,” Jeanette whispered between kisses. The Pizza Man wasn’t exactly sure what she was talking about, but he didn’t really care to be honest. 

Jeanette broke from him and pulled Heidi from his dick with a small pop as the suction broke. 

“Do you like her?” asked Jeanette, gesturing for Heidi to do a little turn for him. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, feeling his fingers tingle as they itched to run themselves over her curves. Those thick mom thighs were really doing it for him. She smiled, revealing two dimples. In pictures and on TV she just seemed like a normal senator’s wife, but seeing her in person, stark naked, he realized that she was more than that. She was a straight MILF.

“Then follow me,” Jeanette whispered, pulling Heidi by her handcuffs. The blonde woman snuck a look behind her at the Pizza Man, giving him a wink. “Why don’t we have a little fun?”

Jeanette settled herself on the couch, pulling Heidi on top of her so she straddled her strap on. Jeanette traced her jaw, guiding her lips to her own, kissing her lightly before she beckoned the Pizza Man over.

“Get behind her,” she commanded, grabbing a bottle of lube from a side table and squirting it on her strap-on. “Lets double-time this bitch. Your country is counting on you.”

She turned to Heidi, who looked like she just found out about the e-coli scare at Chipotle; mildly concerned for her health, but still not saying no to the fat pile of meat poised at her lips. 

“As always Heidi, you’re Outnumbered,” she whispered, causing Heidi to smile impishly, the corners of her mouth twitching from pleasure as Jeanette slide the black strap on back into her. Heidi’s “immigration policies” were loose, and it didn’t take long for Jeanette to cross her border. The Pizza Man, now pants-less, positioned himself behind the blond woman and guided his own sausage into her stretched vagoober.

“Ah!” she shouted as he pressed his full length inside of her, filling her past her quota. She shuddered and winced in pain, though the second intrusion was most definitely welcome. The two began to thrust inside her, slowly and carefully, as this was the most dick either of them have ever seen a vag take, and Jeanette had gone to the Biden's Christmas Party.

Heidi moaned and grunted as the two pounded into her, stuffing her with more “immigrants” than Germany. But they were too slow!

“Faster Mistress,” Heidi moaned, her fingers struggling to find purchase on Jeanette’s corset, “harder Mistress, please! I can take it! Fuck me harder!”

Jeanette and the Pizza Man made eye contact. They nodded. 

The Pizza Man reached forward and grabbed Heidi’s hands, lifting them up and holding them behind her like handlebars on a motorcycle because he was going to ride her like a Hells Angel. Jeanette grabbed Heidi by the hair and pulled her face towards her breasts, smothering her between her D-cups. Both the Pizza Man and Jeanette picked up the pace, stuffing her like a ballot box. Heidi screamed in pleasure and pain, the two opposites working together beautifully towards a common goal, much like the U.S. Legislative body does not. 

“This more than pays for that pizza!” The Pizza Man grunted between thrusts. He had never had this happen on one of his runs before, but he really hoped more Politians ordered Pizza if this was how the deliveries went. 

On the other side of the room, Marco had unchained Ted from the chandelier and freed him from his blindfold, allowing him to see the scene that had unfolded. Ted’s jaw dropped like Obama’s mic at the State of the Union. Marco pulled the senator by his handcuffs to the other living room couch, every step reminding the Texan of the butt plug and rock hard erection dangling between his legs like the Liberty Bell. 

Marco pushed Ted into the soft cushions, pinning him down with his thin arms. 

“On a scale of North Korea to the United States, how free are you tonight?” he asked, a smile in his eyes. Ted frowned. He came here to be fucked like a debt-riddled college student, not belittled by some pretentious son-of-an-immigrant!

“You know Marco our next president needs to be a strong and decisive leader, not someone who teases our enemies to death!”

“Always so impatient…you know it takes time to make America great again Ted,” he said with a sly wink. 

Ted groaned and rolled his eyes, opening his toad-like mouth to protest when he felt Marco begin to pull the butt plug out. Grabbing the bottle of lube from the side table, Marco quickly squirted a dab on his pointer finger and pressed it against Ted’s asshole.

Ted clenched; it was cold. Marco smiled like a cat as he pushed his finger deep into Ted’s entrance. This didn’t do much for Ted, as his ass was already primed from the Bald Eagle plug, so Marco added another finger. He began scissoring his fingers, turning his wrist so he could stimulate different areas, looking for the hard, rounded lump that was Senator Cruz’s prostate. When he finally hit it, Ted’s hips shot forward like a Michael Jackson video.

“Hm, interesting,” murmured Marco, pulling his two fingers out to introduce a third. Ted clenched around Marco’s long fingers, eager for more stimulation. But alas, Marco had other plans. He had spent the larger part of the evening working to please Ted, catering to his filthy, masochistic needs. Now, it was his turn.

Marco removed his fingers to Ted confusion, bringing the head of his member instead to Ted’s entrance. Marco’s penis had been standing in a full salute for nearly an hour now and it was ready to fight for its country. After applying a generous amount of lube like the patriot he was, Marco pushed his cock into Ted’s southern border. Both men shuddered as their desires were finally met. Marco continued pressing into Ted’s tightness until he bottomed out, then began thrusting.

He took one of Ted’s thighs in each hand, using them as handles as he pressed into his ass over and over, feeling the tip of his manhood pass the hard lump of Ted’s prostate each time, and each time Ted gasped. 

“I’m close, oh sweet baby Jesus, Marco, I’m close!” Ted gasped, his face scrunching together in sweet, homosexual pleasure. Marco was close too, but he couldn’t let the fun end just yet. He wanted to prolong this game like Obama wanted to prolong the crisis in the Middle East. He withdrew from Ted once more, looking down to view his work. Ted’s asshole was a gaping hole, open as wide as the FOX News crew’s minds were narrow. 

“I’m not finished yet,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. Perhaps if he’s spoken like this during the debates instead of stuttering over rehearsed lines he could have stood up to the celebritard bobble-head Donald Trump. 

On the adjacent couch, the Pizza Man and Jeanette were still humping Heidi like the last two rabbits on earth. Heidi moaned and shook and cried out but mysteriously still hadn’t cum yet. Jeanette was beginning to tire and couldn’t keep up her thrusts with the athletic Pizza Man, a plight he soon noticed. 

With a loud grunt, the Pizza man hauled Heidi off Jeanette’s cock, lifting her by her waist, and threw her over the sex trunk disguised as a quaint vintage coffee table. Heidi let out a shout as she felt the entire length of the strap-on exit her throbbing clam. 

The Pizza Man settled himself back in-between her thighs, lining himself up with her national treasure. Heidi moaned as she felt his tip brush her swollen lips; she spread her legs like Manifest Destiny, desperately awaiting his pioneer to enter her frontier. He quickly thrust into her, wasting no time in resuming his previous speed and fervor. She clenched around him, her Oval Office all but wrecked from Jeanette’s monster strap-on. The Pizza Man grabbed her by her hips, crashing her backside onto his dick with every thrust. 

Heidi threw her head back and moaned as the Pizza Man spanked her ass once, twice, three times, slapping it redder than Soviet Russia. He loved watching it jiggle seductively, like a 4th of July Jell-O mold, the ones with real fruit in them. He smacked it again and squeezed, as he watched Marco and Ted make their way over. 

The pair stepped in front of Heidi, cocks in hand, prepared to take advantage of her open mouth. She saw them coming her way and grabbed their twin joysticks, greedily slurping them like a sinner does the blood of Christ, and by God, was she a sinner today. At least she’d remembered to take her cross necklace off before she’d left the hotel; couldn’t have Jesus hanging around her neck while she had her brains fucked out. No, she wasn’t even remotely worried about her eternal soul; she’d repent at Wednesday night Bible Study and everything would be O.K.

The two candidates were like Lewis and Clark, exploring her mouth like the great American West. Like Sacagawea, Heidi grabbed their Cuban Cigars and helped them discover new territory inside her pretty little mouth. It was what the Founding Fathers’ would have wanted. She took Marco’s dick to its hilt, relaxing her throat as he pressed on the back of her head, trying to make it all the way to the Pacific Coast. Heidi turned her head to try and take more of his dick, giving Marco a glimpse of the bulge in her neck from his Johnson. 

The Pizza Man continued pounding into her, leaning over to kiss and bite her back and shoulders, occasionally leaning forward to fondle her breasts, pinching her nipples, teasing her into a moan. While Heidi slurped on Marco’s dick, Ted moved to play with her clit. Well, he thought it was her clit. He honestly didn’t know where the clitoris was, and up until a few days ago, he had no idea it existed. They didn’t teach these things in Texas. 

Having rested on the couch for a few minutes, Jeanette got up and walked into the kitchen, a woman on a mission. She returned shortly with a thick double-ended dildo and some mountain-climbing rope in deep red—red for Republican. 

“Let’s spice things up a bit,” she cooed, because if there is anything a Hispanic girl knows how to do, it’s spice things up. 

Jeanette gently pushed the men away, and they complied willingly, eager to see what Jeanette’s sick mind had come up with this time to fuck with Heidi’s lady parts. Jeanette took the rope and tied Heidi’s legs up towards her chest, leaving her ass and vag open and ready. She then tied her handcuffs and torso to the coffee table before crawling onto it herself. She licked her lips. The display in front of her looked fucking tasty. 

Jeanette grabbed the double-ended dildo and all three men, eagerly watching in the sidelines, hands on their cocks, completely expecting her to use it for its intended purpose, that is to say, the dual fucking of two women. But this was far too pedestrian for Jeanette, who was just a few tacos short of a combination platter due to being dropped multiple times during her Miami Dolphins Cheerleader days. Instead, Jeanette folded the dildo in half and attempted to shove it into Heidi’s cooter. Nobody expected her to be able to take it; by all means it should have been impossible. Honestly, at this point Jeanette was continuing her attempts for purely scientific purposes: how much dick could one vagina take?

Heidi’s vagina could apparently take a fuck ton of dick. After a generous application of lube and some adjustment, the double-heads squeezed into her quivering snatch. She did not take it quietly either, screaming and moaning as the dildo pressed against her walls. It wasn’t even really pleasurable at this point, but Heidi encouraged her anyway, calling for her to push deeper. Mama didn’t raise no quitter.

When the dildo was securely in, Jeanette climbed over and tasted Heidi’s cooter, licking around the dildo and sucking on her clit, pinching it between her teeth and pulling gently. She felt Heidi’s thighs shudder above her in pleasure. Jeanette was an Olympic fucking champion at eating pussy. In middle school she’d practiced eating a pudding cup with no hands to impress her friends. Now that she’d grown up and become a polysexual dominatrix, she still impressed her friends with her talents, but not in exactly the same way as in middle school. 

Jeanette wiggled the dildo, pumping it in her but never pulling it out, fearing that if she did she would never be able to fit it in again. All the while, the men looked on in awe, like schoolboys staring at their first set of titties. Ted especially gazed at Jeanette’s round, caramel colored ass sticking prettily up in the air as its owner was facedown in his Heidi’s cat. 

Ted turned to Marco. “May I?” he whispered in his ear, flicking his head toward the luscious Latina cake.

“Of course,” he replied, an idea forming in his head.

Ted made his way over to Jeanette, taking her ass in both his hands, squeezing the sweet, smooth flesh, relishing the way it felt in his pudgy fingers. He slid the string of her thong to the side and set himself to enter her hot apple pie when he felt a set of hands grab his own ass. Marco.

“Be careful, Ted,” he whispered as he traced his hand up his glistening backside, “She’s about as well travelled as the Oregon Trail, and just as treacherous.”

“W-w-what do you mean?” Ted asked nervously, looking back at her browed flesh deliciously poised like a piece of Grade-A lady meat.

“You know how John McCain can’t lift his arms past his shoulders?” whispered Marco.

“Yes…?”

“Well, he can’t lift his little arm past his knees now either. Not since Jeanette rode him like it was the Kentucky Derby at the 2008 Inaugural Ball. She was livid after Obama’s election and took out all her hate and malice on his little soldier.”

“W-what?” asked Ted, still not getting it.

“She broke his dick, Ted.” Marco said, “His dick is broken now.”

Ted gasped, never knowing that this was even a possibility. Marco, gave a throaty laugh before finally entering Ted with strong thrust, forcing Ted’s hips forward so he too would enter Jeanette’s honey pot. Ted gasped again, but this time in pleasure. Her pussy was smooth and tight, like a fucking a jar of peanut butter, and he’d stuck his dick in enough jars of peanut butter to know the feeling exceptionally well. 

The men began pumping in time, creating a beautiful rhythm, like an Earth, Wind, and Fire song. Ted found himself bending slightly over Jeanette, trying to open himself up more for Marco. He remembered the feeling of Marco’s dick smashing against his sweet spot earlier and desperately wanted to recreate that sensation. 

Though the Pizza Man had had a few borderline gay moments during his Kappa Sigma fraternity days, he chose to fuck Heidi’s open mouth instead of joining in on the other end. She took him willingly, always happy to entertain a guest. He never considered bondage to be one of his kinks before, but now, as he shoved his dick down the throat of a woman tied up and handcuffed, he thought, “why the fuck not?” and grabbed her collar, relishing the complete control he had over her.

They created a pleasure train, with every thrust from Marco sending Ted cursing deeper into Jeanette’s pussy, and every thrust from Ted forcing Jeanette to shove the dildo deeper into Heidi. It was one big literal cluster fuck of grunting and moaning, sweat and smegma, a perfect analogy for the U.S. Political system. 

Heidi’s moans increased and her body tensed in preparation for her climax. She felt an intense buildup in her core, better than the last one. Suddenly, a tsunami crashed into her groin, causing her whole body to convulse. If she wasn’t tied down to the table, she might have fallen off. Wave after wave smashed into her. Her skin became super receptive, feeling every fiber of the robe binding her limbs together, the old wood of the trunk on her bare back.

Recognizing a job well done, Jeanette too let herself go to Ted’s thrusting. The Pizza Man let himself cum as Heidi gagged on his dick, spilling his sweet baby batter all over her chest.

But alas, the two presidential candidates had yet to reach their happy endings. Ted struggled to get off due to the tight cock ring still squeezing his Junior Senator. He thrust into Jeanette’s fajita with the same strength and tenacity as the Black Lives matter movement, but to no avail. 

Not a complete dickwad, Marco decided it was high time Ted got his happy ending. God knows he wouldn’t be having one on the campaign trail. Marco pulled the desperately thrusting senator off his dick dizzy wife and threw him roughly on the floor. Ted froze for a moment, just enough time for Marco to straddle him and take his cock in his hands. Slipping his fingers over the silicon, Marco slowly pulled the cock ring off Ted’s penis, leaving an angry red ring— red for motherfucking republican – where it used to be.

“You can only cum if you say it,” He told Ted, gently stroking his penis, causing the older senator to gasp and jerk in response. He slid himself from Ted’s hips and settled himself between his thighs, lifting the Texan’s thick legs to rest his calves on his shoulders. Marco reentered Ted’s ass, able to go even deeper now that they were in missionary. He fucked his poor asshole mercilessly, mimicking his foreign policy views. He hit Ted’s sweet spot over and over, feeling Ted tense up beneath him.

“Oh God!” screamed Ted as he felt himself reach the edge.

“Say it! Say it Ted or I swear on Washington’s grave I’ll pull out right now!” 

“Radical Islamic Terrorism!” Ted screamed, flinging arms out to find something, anything to grab and squeeze as the orgasm rolled over him, slamming him again and again, like income taxes. The sound of Ted finally reaching his climax sent Marco over the edge; his dick exploded like the ass end of Apollo 13, filling Ted with cum, making him shiver even more. 

Marco collapsed like the housing market over top of the other man, panting, exhausted.

“It’s going to be a great election,” whispered Marco between labored breaths.


End file.
